


Fragmentary Blue

by AstroGirl



Category: Farscape
Genre: F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-06
Updated: 2009-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:44:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Stark/Zhaan PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragmentary Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Title is stolen from Robert Frost.

A blue hand runs slowly down his skin, and he shivers at the dual sensation: not only the physical touch of her caress, but also the gentle tingle of her life-energies as they ripple against his. He marvels at the feeling, as exciting now as the first time, his wonder at her beauty and her willingness as strong now as then.

He presses his lips to her throat, feeling the warm rush of sap beneath her cool skin. So real, so _alive_. He kisses down her body, tongue darting forth to taste the sweet chlorophyllic tang of her, his nostrils flaring to catch her scent. She is both exotic and familiar, like the perfume of an alien flower borne on his long-lost homeworld's breeze.

He pauses at her belly, her deft fingers tracing mystic patterns against the coarse fuzz of his hair, and raises his head. She looks back at him, a quick, delighted young girl's smile flashing beneath the soft and ancient eyes of a priest. Both are beautiful. Both are Zhaan. And both, if only for this moment, are his.

He smiles back, all the happiness in his heart bursting forth in his grin. He knows how that usually looks: too wide, too manic, a disturbing reminder of the darkness and instability beneath. But there is no trace of fear in Zhaan's expression, only pleasure and acceptance, and something that he can almost allow himself to hope might be love.

She whispers his name, and her hands glide across his shoulders, urging him to continue. Gladly, he lowers his mouth again, pausing only to gasp as more of her finds him in the other realm where his greater, truer self exists. Pale blue energy swirls and thrums against his own shimmering gold.

She gasps in turn as at last he nuzzles between her legs, his lips trailing across the fragrant, iridescent casing that encloses her vagina. It will open only to a gentle touch, a welcome stimulation. Only to a lover who excites her body and brings pleasure to her soul. It opens to him, the two halves parting like the pod of a germinating seed, folding back against her body like furling _gel_-leaves in the autumn. His heart thrills at the sight, for reasons that have both nothing and everything to do with the anticipation of sex. His body trembles eagerly, his energy self flares and sparks, and his mind reaches out for hers.

In the past, they have spent arns in the act of love, carefully exploring each other's bodies, testing each other's pleasure. But suddenly his desire is desperate, overwhelming, as if he is afraid that at any moment she will vanish into nothingness. He raises his head again and starts to speak, but he can see in her eyes that words are unnecessary. She already knows.

"Yes," she says. "Yes. Come to me, my beautiful."

"Zhaan," he says, his body sliding against hers. "You are the one who is beautiful." More beautiful, in body and soul, than he could ever have hoped for. Certainly more than he ever has deserved.

And then words are not only unnecessary, but impossible. Her mouth is against his, her body filling his perceptions and driving all uncertainty, all conscious thought from his mind. A moment later he is inside her... and she is inside him, her Goddess-given energy surging through the tides and currents of his astral self. They are tangled together, body, energy and mind. He can feel her, can feel her feeling him, can feel her feeling him feeling her, an endless progression to infinity, pleasure building with each reflection as they move and surge together like coherent waves of light.

At last, those waves crescendo, crash, and break. They cry their pleasure together on multiple planes of existence, then float slowly back to the awareness of their individual selves, to lie quietly in each other's arms.

She strokes his face: the flesh, the metal, the light beneath, murmurs something loving and warm. The look on her face is almost heartbreakingly happy. Stark doesn't think he'll ever get used to bringing anyone this much happiness, not anyone who will still be alive when he's done. He holds her close, kisses her again, and silently promises her anything, everything his soul can give, in willing repayment for this moment, this feeling, this smile. For however long it lasts.

They stopped time together once. If only they could do it again.


End file.
